


Don't Tempt Me

by Reda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Gay But Catholic, GerIta on the side, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Lent, M/M, Nationverse, Religious Content, Religious Discussion, Roman Catholicism, author is catholic, other languages used for certain words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reda/pseuds/Reda
Summary: In which Romano, questioning his faith versus the feelings in his heart, makes a challenging choice for what to give up for Lent. Spain does not approve, but when Lovino's virtually cut off all ties with the Spaniard in order to better observe his fasting choice, what's Antonio to do?
Relationships: South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been on FFNET for a while but now that it's the season of Lent once again, I'm moving it here. I know Italy and Spain are both majority-Catholic countries so I wondered if either of them would be in a gay relationship with another country and yet have problems reconciling that with their faith if they followed said faith along with their people. So. Here ya go.

"So, what are you giving up for Lent, _fratello_?"

Romano nearly spat his drink out everywhere at the question. For one, they were in public, having a nice dinner after celebrating the Mass and Ash Wednesday observances (and he was _starving_ after having fasted all day). Being in public, he would have assumed Veneziano would know better about asking that specific question, especially after the disaster of last year. His brother may not have a problem running around telling everyone what he was giving up, but _he_ certainly did. First off, it was nobody's business thank-you-very-much. And secondly, he wasn't about to _tell_ these _humans_ how he was giving up a certain activity with a certain someone. _Thirdly_ , the very _mention_ of it was about to drive him insane with need and didn't Feliciano know _why_ he had hidden his phone the other day?

...or why he had been talking nearly non-stop to that Spanish bastard the other day...or spent the whole weekend being almost clingy...

Well it most certainly wasn't because he was going to miss the bastard, that was for sure! This was a good thing for him. He was Catholic. He shouldn't be so head-over-heels for another man anyway, even if he was a nation, too. The Pope would not have approved. Well, the Pope was stepping down – what the hell was that about anyway? But he was pretty sure any Catholic figure would not have approved of the male nations romping around with each other all the time.

...if only they knew the half of it...

Still, he was currently sitting with his overly energetic brother at a table in the church's reception hall. They were visiting the people. Like they always did on special seasonal observances. And their particular table was absolutely enthralled with anything Veneziano said. Of course, everyone always was, weren't they?

...except now they were waiting for Romano's answer.

He glared at his brother. Not that he'd been paying attention, but giving up one kind of pasta was no where _near_ as challenging – or secretive – as Romano's personal choice for the season. Or the video games that the kid had chosen. Or the sweets that the woman had decided on. Or even the porn that the young man had been quite honest about being addicted to...

Slouching back in his chair, Lovino grumbled out his answer in the vaguest way he knew how. "Tomatoes."

The people at the table stared at him like he was crazy and Veneziano even laughed. "What? But you love tomatoes, don't you? Why give that up? Didn't you do that a few years ago?" There was a pause and a strange look crossed his brother's eyes, like a bit of an understanding, and then a much quieter, "Does Antonio know?"

Romano glared harder, if that were possible. "No, he doesn't, and why should he? It's none of his business and it's none of yours either! And I'd _appreciate_ it if you stop tormenting me." - _you fucking bastard._

He wanted to scream at his brother, but they were in public. In public. In church. He had given up cursing one year (not that it lasted the whole season, but he'd done pretty damn well for all the lack-of-support he had). Every time they went out, he had to calm himself, to force it all down, to settle for glares instead of shouted insults. And _every time_ the humans _much preferred his brother_.

Of _course_. It was _never_ any different, was it?

Finally deciding that he was unable to handle this torture anymore, Romano stood, pushing his chair back, having finished his meal a long time ago and been trapped waiting for Veneziano to finish his little visit. Besides, Feliciano cared much more about understanding his people than Romano did. After all, Feli was the one _really_ in charge of the country so what did Romano even care about what they thought of things?

"I'm taking a walk. I'll see you back at the house, _fratello_."

Feli stared at him, then smiled and nodded. "Si~" He chirped, his usual happy, bouncy, always-fucking-happy self.

Without another glance to the humans, Romano turned tail and left the building. He gave a nod to the priest. Fought the urge to scratch at his forehead because of the ashes that were now there. Of course, thinking about it made it even more difficult, but he persevered and focused on other things. He tried to forget about any thoughts of a certain Spanish bastard, but Antonio had always been his go-to thought whenever he was trying to forget something unpleasant...

_No, fucking hell, tomato bastard, get out of my thoughts. I'm Catholic! And you're supposed to be Catholic, too! What's wrong with you? It's a sin! It's a fucking sin! How can you always stand there and smile at me when you know what we're doing is wrong..._

He froze, leaning against the sign just outside the church, fighting the tears that threatened to hit his eyes. The torment. The raging battle. He _knew_ it was wrong. He knew it was a sin. He knew it wasn't right, wasn't natural, wasn't what God wanted, but...he still...

_...how come I still want you?_

~!~

The next day, Feliciano Vargas was spending all his time in the kitchen, wondering what he should be cooking. He had given up Fettucine all'Alfredo this year. A certain pasta he had grown to especially love over the past few months and been quite obsessive over, so he'd decided to curb down the obsession by throwing it off the menu list, at least for the season of Lent. Germany had once suggested he give up pasta in general, but that was such a horrendous thought, he had immediately insisted that it was difficult enough giving up even one _kind_ of pasta – and that he chose which type based on his most recent addiction. That way, he never ever came to love just _one_ type of pasta; he could never forsake all the other goodies out there, now could he?

His thoughts were occupied by other things as well, such as his brother. After last night, Romano had disappeared for most of the night, taking what Italy assumed as a very long walk. Lovino finally returned home late in the night, but his eyes had been puffy and red like he'd been crying. Feliciano never asked about it, knowing his brother wouldn't talk about it no matter how much he pushed. Only Antonio seemed able to make his _fratello_ speak up sometimes.

...which was what really worried him. If he had been correct – and he was quite sure he was now – that when Romano said 'tomatoes' what he meant was 'the tomato bastard' then...he was worried for their relationship. What could have Romano so tormented that he would decide to go and give up a _person_ for Lent? And not just any person, but _Spain_.

_Why?_

He wanted to ask, the question was burning in his brain, but he knew he wouldn't get an answer. And after Romano's clipped growls and glares and _please-excuse-me-I'm-leaving_ of last night, Veneziano was quite sure his brother would only close up more if he was pressured.

So what could he do but call Spain? Maybe Antonio would be able to understand Romano's decision. Or maybe he could convince Lovino that it was a silly thing to do.

With this in mind, Feliciano pulled out his address book and grabbed the kitchen phone once he found Antonio's number. He was surprised when it picked up after the first ring. "Ah, Lovi~ You never call from the house phone. Ready to come over now?"

Italy blinked at first, mouth open but frozen because he hadn't been expecting Spain to answer in such a way. Then he had to remind himself. This was the house phone, not his cell phone. Caller ID would pick up the number that Antonio was sure to have, but it could have been either of them calling – and why would Feliciano call?

"Ve, big brother Spain, this isn't -"

"Oh, Ita, _lo siento_. I did not expect you to be calling. How are you doing?"

Spinning around in the kitchen, feeling his kitchen apron twirl like a dress, Italy giggled a little. It was always hard not to smile around Spain or when hearing his ever cheerful voice. "Ve~ I'ma making pasta."

"Oh?" Antonio chuckled. "What kind?"

Feliciano brought a finger up to his lips, tapping it lightly. "Ah, I haven't decided yet."

Spain laughed again. He always had been fun to talk to. So cheerful and easy to laugh, no matter who he was around. He seemed to find the littlest things funny, as if he were watchful of every little moment. And so easy going. Sometimes, Italy wondered what life would have been like if Spain was his true big brother and not Romano. Not so many angry words, that was for sure, but he had grown to understand Lovino's dirty mouth and curses as his curious way of affection. Apparently, so had Antonio.

"Then what did you give up this year, Ita?"

"Fettucine," he mumbled, "but that's not why I called you." He forced himself to be still and serious, leaning against the kitchen counter even as he toyed with the phone cord. "It's about my _fratello_."

Spain's voice was instantly worried, the laugh dropping as easily as it came. "Did something happen?"

"No, not exactly," Feli bit his lip, trying to think of how to phrase this. "It's about what he decided to give up for Lent."

"I'm listening..."

Feliciano took a breath and decided this was for the best. Yes, Lenten sacrifices were meant to be personal. They weren't meant to be shared. But this was important. This was serious. This was...it wasn't what he'd been expecting from his _fratello_ and it worried him. Because Romano was _so happy_ when he was with Spain.

"I think...he gave up _you_."

~!~

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo fell against the sofa, feeling his chest burn with an unexplainable pain. Leaning back against the soft cushions, he tried to reason through what he had just heard. He nearly dropped the phone. Feliciano was quiet on the other end, though he could pick up an occasional "ve" as the Italian breathed into the phone.

His mouth felt suddenly dry and his hands were shaking. Why was he so upset? It was such a ridiculous reaction to something that he should have expected. Romano was always going off about silly things that he didn't really mean. He would always complain about everything Spain did. Always call him names, like stupid tomato bastard. Always trying to push him away. Like he was afraid of something. Like something was bothering him.

He should have expected this to happen at some point, right?

...but...

"He gave up...me," he repeated, the phrase sounding strange and surreal even now.

Why? Why would he do that? Why would Lovino suddenly push him away so _hard_ , so _forcefully_. Did he really see their relationship as a sinful addiction? Was it really something to hate? To push away? To give up?

It didn't help when Feliciano basically voiced his own thoughts. "Si~ Why would he do that?"

Apparently, even Feli was looking for a reason for the choice, which meant Romano hadn't confided in his brother before making this decision. Which made perfect sense. Lovino didn't confide in anyone. He was stubborn about making his own decisions without any help from anyone. But it hurt. It _hurt_ to know Romano had taken it this far.

"I don't know, Ita. This last weekend has been the most we've ever spent together. The most we've ever..." _well, Ita doesn't need to know **that**... _"And on Tuesday he insisted on being on the phone all day and almost all night, too; he even fell asleep with it still on."

It wasn't until Feliciano sucked in a quick gasp of breath that Antonio understood. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his leg and a hand tugging at his hair. He'd been splurging. Romano had been stuffing himself with as much time as he could take with Spain before the Lenten season could begin. He'd gorged himself to near bursting.

...and then cut him off...

Antonio let out a groan, then a curse, then gave a not-really-hopeful request. "Can I maybe talk to him?"

The Italians were very serious about their religion – whereas Spain was more lax on some issues – but he allowed a little touch of hope. Feli gave him a 've' of an _i'll try_ and Spain held his breath as he waited to hear Lovino's voice over the phone. He still couldn't believe it. He wasn't really expecting Lovi to take the phone, either. If it really was his choice to give up Antonio for Lent. Spain blinked as he waited, wracking his brain, trying to think how it was possible. Who gave up a _person_ anyway? Wasn't that a little ridiculous?

Still, he waited for Romano to answer. He wanted it. He wanted to speak to him. He wanted to understand. He wanted to have this all explained to him. But, he knew having Romano actually pick up the phone now would be a miracle. It would be...

"Look, tomato bastard, you can't go tempting me."

Antonio blinked and stared into the distance at the sound of Lovi's voice. It _had_ been a miracle. He _had_ taken the phone. He _had_ decided to speak with him. So, what -?

"Hey Lovi~" He laughed, though it was rather forced at the moment; he still didn't want Romano to think of him not smiling. "I heard you gave me up for Lent, but I guess that's not true – otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me, huh?"

He got a growl and a curse in response. "Idiot, that's not what I meant!" There was more, but it was mumbled, a little too much for him to pick it up, and then Romano spoke clearly again. "Still, you have to stay away. Otherwise you tempt me, you fucking bastard."

"Tempt you?"

"Si, you bastard! Just stay home and don't come over here! And don't even try to call me! I already hid my phone!"

Then there was a click and a dial tone and Antonio had the sick feeling in his stomach that this was the last he would hear of Romano for a long, long time. Why? What had he done? He had been sure that their relationship was at a new high. He had been sure that he was doing everything right. So what had he done wrong? When? When did Romano start doubting?

_And...why?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I originally wrote this, Valentine's Day had fallen pretty early during Lent. Doesn't always happen that way. Didn't happen that way this year, for sure. But yeah, for context lol.

_Heat, everywhere. Panting. Couldn't get enough air. Couldn't calm the heat. Had to find release. Burning._

" _Lovino," a whisper by his ear. A breath across his skin. A touch in his hair._

" _Nng..."_

_Couldn't speak. Still fighting for air. Wonderful, painful burning everywhere. In his lungs. In his face. And still elsewhere._

_Wanting to shout, wanting to demand more, but only his eyes could speak. Only his eyes could get the need, the desire across. Green eyes answered him. That look. That smile._

_Antonio..._

~!~

Romano awoke gasping for breath, sitting up in the bed, clutching his covers in a tight grip. Sweat beaded down his face and he reached up with an arm to wipe it off. His fingers tangled in his hair. The dream still playing through his mind, making his breathing quicken, making his heart race, making his face flush.

Tomato bastard had taken over his thoughts.

It wasn't fair. He'd have to say a prayer for the very thought, for the very dream run wild. That his mind could conjure such images was only proof of his addiction, his obsession. He was doing the right thing, giving it all up. He _knew_ he was doing the right thing, even if it hurt, even if it was hard.

Sexual attraction for the same sex was not inherently sinful. No, after all, one could hardly explain how or why someone was attracted to someone else, so whether it was a defect or the truth – it wasn't his fault. However, sexual intercourse with the same sex, getting married, dating, accepting the attraction as normal and forming a union, _anything_ that could be considered acting on said attraction...that was the sinful part. As some groups had started saying: _being_ gay wasn't a sin, _acting_ on it was.

That was the Church's stance, so that was how Romano should live, too, right? If he wanted to be a good Catholic. And he wanted to be good. His people were strongly Catholic. He should be just as devout. The fact that his brother did not see it as seriously as he did, well, that kind of grated on his nerves, but at the very least _he_ would follow the rules.

Still, the thoughts were there, the dreams were there, and his flushing face was getting harder to control the more he thought about it. And it was only the second day of Lent! With a scowl he threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. He _would_ get control of this. Snatching his rosary from the nearby dresser, Romano pushed all thoughts of Antonio the tomato bastard out of his mind, focusing instead on his devotion to God, asking for help, asking for the right course of action, asking to quell the pain in his heart...asking why he had to carry such a heavy burden...

And then Veneziano crashed through the bedroom door. "Romano~ Something came for you in the mail~"

At first he scowled at his brother for interrupting his early morning routine, but Veneziano was one to wake up early. Just as Spain was an early riser – but someone who took a long nap after lunch. Then he blinked and stood up, wearing his sweatpants and a tank top that he normally wore to bed. Something had come for him? In the mail?

Why – what – who?

"It doesn't say who it's from and we're sitting down here so curious, so won't you come down and open it?" Feliciano continued, practically bouncing from foot to foot as he waited at the doorway.

Romano glared over at him. Didn't he know it was rude to ask someone to open their mail? As if he would be opening it in front of everyone anyway. He wasn't a child! Even if Veneziano wanted to act like one, that didn't mean Romano did. He was a proper grown up and could take care of himself and liked to keep things personal thank-you-very-much. It was like this with _everything –_ from sharing what they were giving up for Lent, to opening mail in private or around each other, to reading letters out loud, to -

_Wait, did he say we?_

"Who else is here?" Lovino growled, having a pretty good idea.

"Ah, Germany came by," Feliciano said, still smiling and almost hanging on the door. "It's Valentine's Day, Romano."

Feeling his eye twitch, Romano snapped. "That doesn't mean you should allow him in here! This is my house, too!"

Another thing his brother did that annoyed him. How dare Feli be _happy_ with another man and _still claim to be Catholic_. It wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_. How could his brother be completely okay with his decision? How could Feliciano hang around the German, date him, _love_ him...and yet Romano had to deal with this tug of war in his mind? Whereas Lovino was trying to be good, Feliciano was almost flaunting his sin.

.. _.in their house even!_

"Ve~ But it's more my house and I wanted Germany to stay. Don't you want Antonio to visit?"

Romano glared at him. Sucked in a breath and let his eyes do most of the talking. He could feel his entire body trembling when he responded. "Don't. Mention. The tomato bastard. Ever. Again."

Veneziano gaped, stepping back, and then staring at him sadly. "Oh, Lovino, you don't have to -"

"Can you not just do _one thing,_ Veneziano? Just one thing! That's all I'm asking from you!" He didn't mean to snap at his brother; he really didn't, but with all the turmoil in his heart, he did not want to deal with the looks and the _pity_ that his brother kept sending toward him.

When Feliciano didn't respond, Romano growled and pushed his way past his brother. _Fine. If he wants me to open the mail in front of him and his stupid German bastard, then fine. As long as I don't have to deal with them bugging me about Antonio, I don't care._

Walking into the living room, Lovino looked up with a growl to see the German bastard sitting on the couch, sitting in front of the coffee table, having made a pot of coffee the moment he arrived, probably. Though Romano was pretty sure his brother loved creating different coffee drinks and cappuccino, he knew the German would never give up having his coffee simple and black. Only Prussia was worse when it came to his coffee addiction. Prussia or America, he wasn't sure.

Personally, Romano would be fine with a nice glass of wine. All this coffee or tea nonsense tended to get on his nerves. It was like the rest of the world had to have this huge debate and competition over which drink was better. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't just be happy with a glass of wine in the morning. Not for the purpose of getting drunk. (Wine was certainly never fun to get drunk from, because those hang overs were a _pain_ ). No, a glass of wine in the morning was a nice, perfect little...

Romano froze before sitting down in the room, standing at the edge of the smaller couch – the loveseat. Germany wasn't drinking just _any_ coffee. That smell would be recognizable from anywhere. The bastard had found Spain's stash.

"What are you doing?" He growled.

The scent alone was making him want the Spanish bastard. He shouldn't be wanting the tomato bastard so badly. It was only the second day! Second day! He should be stronger than this! Clenching his hands into fists, he glared at the blond-haired German who had taken his brother into a world of sin. Glared and fought the urge to punch his lights out, but he didn't feel like causing a scene. Feli wouldn't like it if he caused a scene on Valentine's Day. Besides, the German looked...well...damn bastard was built like a tank...

"Feli wanted to see you open the mail," the potato bastard said with a shrug, taking a drink from his cup of coffee – from _Spain's_ coffee stash.

With a huff, Romano crossed his arms and flopped into the loveseat, still glaring at the German as Feliciano came waltzing into the room. "Si~ Romano, open it~"

Finally noting the package sitting on the coffee table, Romano grumbled some more obscenities and reached for it, having to take the scissors – so conveniently placed on the table – to cut through the packing tape. Once the flaps were open, he could see the gifts, and he froze. A stuffed bear holding a red heart with the cheesy "I love you" words written in white – written in Spanish of course.

His brother made his annoying "veh" sound as Romano pulled the bear out of the package. He could see Feliciano bouncing on his feet out of the corner of his eyes, but he ignored it. Such things were easy to ignore when he lived with the hyperactive man. It was the other gift that made his toes curl, made his breath catch. A CD. A stupid CD of all things. At first, he was confused, but upon picking it up and reading the back, he felt his face heat up considerably.

...it was all the Spanish guitar songs that Antonio would play when...well...it was the music he would place in his stereo when they...

Holding onto the CD tightly, Romano had half a mind to crush it between his fingers. His breath caught in his throat and his face felt ridiculously hot. He could hear Veneziano beside him, asking what it was, what it meant, who was it from? As if it wasn't obvious, the bastard. He had an urge to cry. To fling everything across the room. To rant and rage and vent and...and...fucking...bastard...

_I can't stop thinking about him. The second day and he's already making it impossible. It's not fair!_

"Lovi~"

At the voice, he really did freeze up. He heard a gasp from his brother as Feliciano practically jumped up and moved away, as if trying to give him space. Of all times to give him space... Keeping his face down, Romano absolutely refused to acknowledge the new presence that sat down beside him. He wasn't there. It wasn't fair. He couldn't...why...?

"The door was open so I let myself in, huh?"

A hand touched his arm and he felt the shiver rush all the way across his body, up his arm, across his shoulders, down his back, touching everywhere before coming back up. He clenched his teeth. Still refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge how red his face was, how much he wanted to explode at the world, how much he wanted _not_ to banish the thoughts that kept invading his mind.

"Hey, Lovi, it's Valentine's Day. I don't care what you gave up. I had to see you."

Chancing a glance, Romano saw the red roses now sitting on the table beside the open box, as well as a collection of chocolates and candies. Antonio always went all out. Something about how he was the country of passion.

His face went even redder at the thought of passion. Fucking bastard really did deserve that title. Not that he was thinking about it...not that he wanted to think...or do...or...

"Fucking bastard, I told you not to come here," he snapped, throwing his eyes to the other side, annoyed at how his hands were getting sweaty and his grip on the CD was slipping.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. His body couldn't decide whether to push the bastard away or accept the embrace. Temptation. It was strong. It was hard. It was...

"Oh, Lovi, shouldn't you talk to me before deciding something so harsh? What did I do?" Antonio's voice was right by his ear, making his whole body tingle.

His scent. His touch. His voice. Everything was such a bad temptation. His heart was hurting. Aching. So much. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fall into the embrace; he wanted to turn around and accept it; he wanted to run up to his room and drag Antonio with him and do dirty things under the covers. But...there was...so much...

In a rush, he tore himself away from the Spaniard's grip, jumping to his feet. Breathing heavily, he finally faced those green eyes, fighting every feeling he knew, nearly falling to pieces when he saw the hurt. He didn't want to hurt Spain. He didn't want that at all. But...this decision...it was necessary. This relationship wasn't right. It wasn't _right_.

"Fucking tomato bastard, you're tempting me! It's not you – it's me! Would you just go away and leave me alone?" He almost threw the CD in Spain's face, a little amazed that he was still holding the thing, but he couldn't seem to let it go.

As green eyes stared up at him in hurt and confusion, Romano bit his bottom lip and ran. Racing back to his room, he slammed the door, locked it, and then fell against it, sitting down and curling up. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest, hurting at having to confront his temptation directly like that. Oh, how he wanted to just throw his faith to the side and let his feelings rule him. But it just wasn't the right thing to do. Even if he wasn't really the country in the same way Veneziano was, at the very least he wanted to have some connection to the people. Through faith. Through the strong bond of following the Catholic faith _to the letter_.

But it was _so hard_.

And Antonio was only making it _worse_.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone to suffer? Why did they have to make it so hard on him? Why did he have to carry this burden?

Tears were in his eyes again. The second day and he was still crying over it. Stupid. Ridiculous. Weak. It pissed him off. Staring down at the music collection on the CD in his hand, he felt like screaming again. He wanted to throw it across the room. He really did, but he couldn't seem to let it go. His hands were shaking and his eyesight was blurry now, but he kept staring at the CD case, at the list of songs, the guitar melodies written specifically for him. All for him.

...why did life have to be this unfair?

~!~

Antonio sat on the couch for a long time, still stunned at Lovino's outburst, at his cold, harsh words, at his tension whenever being hugged. He had half expected Romano to throw the CD at him; in fact, he could have sworn the idea crossed those eyes. But the man never did throw anything except his words, and then he ran off to his room presumably, slamming the door in his anger.

The words were still echoing through Spain's mind, as he sat there and stared off into the distance. Ludwig and Feliciano had left the room the moment he appeared, as if they both had the sense to recognize what Spain could not. Now, the two remained elsewhere, and at the moment, he didn't care too much. Those two had no problem. Ita didn't seem to have the same issue that Romano was now facing...the issue of their faith.

Spain had long ago reconciled his desires with his faith. Whatever anyone wanted to say, he was devout in his own way, too, but both him and Feliciano had decided that _love_ meant _love_ no matter who you felt it towards. Why did Romano have to believe otherwise? Antonio had always seen Romano as someone who cared little for authority, so why this sudden conflict...why now?

How was he supposed to get Romano to understand? Would he really just have to sit and wait until Lent was over? Sit and wait and be without Lovino for a whole season? Forty days – or however many it was technically – until Easter?

... _I suppose I have no choice...we're nations...I can wait forever if I have to...but..._

Letting a sigh lose, Antonio stood up from the couch, leaving the gifts on the table, hoping Lovino would come down and take them eventually. Walking into the kitchen, he tried to force a smile for Ita and Germany, but quickly discovered that his usual spark was missing and the smile refused to show. Blue eyes were gazing solemnly back at him, and, without a word, Spain shrugged and glanced away. It wasn't something to pity. It was just a sad decision.

To have happiness and then lose it. But it wasn't forever. Lovi would come back. Lovi would understand; he would realize; he _would_ come to his senses and be at peace the way Antonio and Feli were; you _could_ be Catholic and gay, no matter what the rules or expectations or humans wanted to say about it. They were nations. They had different rules, different expectations, different connections.

...he just had to believe in Lovino coming to the same conclusion.

_Please, Lovi. You're making a mistake, but I'll wait for you._

"I'll wait as long as it takes," he mumbled, seeing both Feli and Ludwig nod, as if they, too, had experienced a moment such as this in their relationship.

For all he knew, they had. And so when Ita spoke up, it was with the best hope he could have offered. "Ve~ Luddy waited for me, and I came back, so I'm sure..."

A smile flitted across Antonio's face; he could feel it, small as it was..."Gracias, Ita."

...hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining in Spain. Prussia hates the way his friend is acting, so he decides to visit a certain Italian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time skip to uh, the week before Palm Sunday (which isn't here yet as I post this but bah)

It was raining.

For once, the weather fit the mood. He walked through the steady drops of water, having left his umbrella at home but not caring too much. It wasn't a terrible storm – just a light rain. The sun was still out, too, though it was more or less lingering on the horizon.

Eventually, he made it to his current destination. Not home. No, he did not like sitting at home to relax. Not now that he was alone. After having Romano to look forward to for so many years, going home without him there was like building a great expectation and experiencing a terrible let down.

His boss could read his mood. Anyone should have been able to at this point. But no one commented on it. No one wondered why the usually sunny Spanish nation was so dreary lately.

It was raining, and very dreary.

The first clue that Antonio Carriedo was not himself. Oh, rain was common, but it was so often a "happy" rain, the kind children (and occasionally silly adults or nations) loved to sing and dance in. This rain was different. It left a haze in the air, like a shadow or hovering presence. A somewhat sad, separated, lonely air.

Antonio was not the type to mope or sigh or drag his feet as he walked. He was not the type to let life get him down. He was not the type to walk with his head down and his shoulders slumped. He was most definitely not the type to enter a bar alone, ignore the flamenco music, order a drink, and sit down at the bar without even noticing that his friends were hiding in the shadows.

In fact, it wasn't until Prussia wrapped an arm around his shoulders that he registered their presence. And the shock nearly made him choke on his alcoholic beverage.

"Yo, Toni! What the hell are you doing?"

"Gil, you have no tact whatsoever, _mon am_ i."

Spain blinked as he shifted his gaze from one to the other. Albino to Frenchy to back again. "What are you guys -?"

"Heard it from Ludwig a few weeks ago," Prussia said, interrupting as he sat back on his own stool, holding his own mug of alcohol of course. "Was waiting for the call from you, but..."

"When Gilbert called, I _had_ to come see you, Toni." France was frowning. "This isn't like you."

Spain shook his head. "It's okay. Roma made his choice. I just have to wait. Just wait..." he sighed and stared at his glass, missing the frowns communicated between his buddies.

Wait.

That's what he'd been telling himself for weeks now. For most – if not all – of Lent. Just wait. Romano will come back. He has to come back. He has to...

"Why, Toni?"

Antonio blinked. "Why what?" He was not aware of how quiet and dejected his voice sounded.

Francis was the one speaking to him now. Gilbert was simply hanging back, as if letting the Frenchman do the talking. For once. Gil was always the one offering his own opinion. Actually, come to think of it, was the albino still over there? And why was Francis so insistent on keeping his attention?

" _Mon ami_ , be honest, what happened with Romano? Why is he not here?"

The question was enough to keep his attention. No matter what Gilbert was up to. "Lent. He gave me up." He said it shortly with a matter-of-fact shrug, even though it felt like he had stabbed his heart having to say it out loud.

Weeks. A month. More? How long had it been? How long had he lived without Romano? How long had he left the little Italian to his own life? How long since he had even seen Lovino? Talked to him?

Too long.

Way too long.

"Religion sucks, huh?"

At Francis's comment, Spain turned a glare to him, suddenly finding fire within his chest that hadn't existed for so long. "It does not. You would do better to follow something, too, Francis."

But France didn't let the matter drop, setting a hand on the bar counter and looking at him with pity in his blue eyes. Pity. Why on earth was Francis pitying him? Over religion? Why did everything think it was his religion that caused all of his problems? Why couldn't they all just shut up and mind their own business?

"Toni, you know your Catholic religion is exactly what's causing you so much pain right now -"

"No!" Spain snapped, slamming his glass on the counter, keeping his eyes narrowed. Serious. "That's not how it works, Francis."

"Your denial is making it worse -"

"No, you're making it worse!" Spain stood up. It didn't matter. He wasn't drunk. He wasn't leaning dangerously. He wasn't about to take France's bullshit excuses either. "Religion is the core of a people. If you don't have that, you don't have anything. You start to lose your morals. It's important. It's always been important. Don't you go blaming human nature's division on religion because it's not right!"

It was something that had been on his mind lately. Of course it was. Religion was a big part of him. A big part of the Italian brothers. Wars had been fought over different religions. Different beliefs. Friendships had turned to enemies because of religious differences. How _dare_ Francis blame it all on a set of beliefs, though!

"I wasn't doing that, Toni," France said, his voice quiet, his eyes still calm, not at all worked up like Spain.

Why _was_ he so worked up? Why _was_ he reacting like this? It wasn't in character. It wasn't normal. He put a hand to his forehead, feeling the sweat, taking a breath, forcing himself to calm down. Why was he making it a big deal? Francis wanted to help. His friends always wanted to help. That was what friends were for, after all.

Antonio just felt so out of it right now. Nothing had been the same since Romano had decided to sever their relationship. Nothing had been the same without the little one beside him. For centuries – _centuries_ – they had been together. He had _always_ had Romano's pouts and denials and hidden blushes to look forward to every day, to brighten his day, to make him smile when any other person would have thrown a fit. Lovino always commented that he was too happy, but it was precisely because he had Lovino with him that he was relaxed all the time.

With him gone...

"I'm sorry, Francis. With him gone, I just..."

A hand was against his arm, leading him back to his seat. He followed it graciously, letting himself sink back into the bar stool, leaning against the counter, staring down at absolutely nothing. "Don't worry about it, Toni. But I do think you need to consider why the issue has come to this in the first place."

His eyes flashed again. His teeth grinding against each other. He opened his mouth to snap something at France, but when he lifted his head he saw the man looking at him worried and completely serious. No strings attached. Just honest worry. Spain felt his anger relax from the initial accusations and he glanced away, staring at the opposite end of the bar without seeing.

"It's not that simple," he muttered.

"What's not?"

Spain shook his head, feeling his soaked black hair dripping water like a dog at the movement. "Ita is fine with it. Ludwig and Feli have managed to reconcile their religious beliefs with their relationship. But Romano -" He sighed, shutting his eyes, remembering the conflicted mannerisms of his little tomato.

Of Lovino tensing and pulling away at the slightest touch. Of him holding onto the gifts. Of his eyes flicking around. Of his uncertainty. Uncertainty. Lovino wasn't sure what to do with his feelings. Had he finally reached a point where he could recognize his true feelings, accept them? And yet, found that he was unable to accept them?

"Ah, I think I'm understanding things better now," France muttered. "You should -"

Before he could try to listen to Francis' idea of what he should do, Antonio glanced around, frowned, and interrupted his friend. "Hey, where's Gil?"

Because the usually rowdy, loud albino had completely disappeared.

~!~

It was the scratch on his window that caught his attention. It sounded like a cat at first, but then he heard a German curse and he knew it was definitely _not_ a cat – or any night time critter for that matter. Romano immediately jumped up from his bed and turned his stereo off. (No, he had most definitely not been listening to the CD from Spain).

He didn't rush to the window, though he now knew who was outside waiting on him. No, he growled and sat and wondered why the fuck the albino idiot was here. It was midway through the week; Palm Sunday was coming up; Prussia very rarely visited this house, especially by himself. Granted, there had been a few times here and there after a meeting – or even during a meeting where Prussia and Romano were left out – that the albino ex-nation would come scratch at the window and insist on wasting time with Romano since everyone else would be busy.

They had that much in common at least.

Another scratch at his window - longer, louder, and more annoying this time – and Romano felt his eyebrow twitch as he glared over in that direction. Why did he even have this awkward acquaintance with the potato bastard's brother? He was regretting ever having met the idiot. Honestly, though, who the fuck climbs up to a second story window and starts scratching like a cat to be let in?

The sound of nails on a chalkboard was getting to be too much, though, so Romano huffed and went over to the window with the full of intention of pushing the ex-nation off the side of the building. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Prussia grinned at him, that annoying wide grin that made Romano want to punch the idiot in the face. "Finally! Shit, I was beginning to think you couldn't hear me."

Prussia started to push his way through the window, but Romano held up a hand and stopped him, forcing the albino ex-nation to grab the edges of the window to keep from being thrown back. "Why the fuck are you at my window? It's the middle of the night!"

Prussia shrugged. "That's the perfect time."

"Do you have any idea what it looks like, though?" Romano growled. "What if -"

Gripping to the side of the window didn't seem to phase the Prussian at all as he sent a sly red-eyed look to Romano. "What if Toni found out?"

Feeling a blush hit his cheeks, Lovino shoved at the albino and then pulled away when the ex-nation refused to fall. "No! That's not – fuck! Nevermind! Go ahead and come in, then. It's not like I care."

With a huff, Lovino made his way over to his bed, crossed his arms, and tried desperately not to think of the so easily mentioned Spanish man. Fucking asshole bringing him up. He had been doing so good too. He hadn't been thinking of Antonio at all these past few weeks. Nope. No thoughts as he went to sleep, no longings as he woke up alone, no urges to listen to that fucking stupid CD of Spanish guitar...

"What's this?" Gilbert asked into the brooding silence.

Romano lifted his glare to the white-haired red-eyed asshole who had invaded his room, left the window open, and tracked in mud from climbing through the gardens at the side of the house no doubt. Prussia was now holding up a certain CD case, turning it over in his hand and reading the back, starting to chuckle at the list of songs. Lovino did his best not to blush, though he felt the heat fill his face. Fucking German asshole...

He snapped to his feet and snatched the CD case out of Prussia's hands. "It doesn't matter! It's not like I'm listening to it."

"Oh really?" Gilbert asked, pressing the play button on the stereo and laughing at the obvious Spanish guitar music. "Toni gave this to you, right?"

Fucking...asshole...Lovino growled, shook his head, and rushed over to turn the music off, pushing Gilbert back in the process. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The albino shrugged. "Nothing. Just wondering what's wrong with you, I guess. You're in here listening to his music, and Spain's experiencing torrential downpours across the nation."

"Why the fuck -" Lovino swallowed his curses and felt his narrowed eyes lift up a bit; was he worried? No. Just a little bit concerned maybe, but definitely not worried. "What? You said that like it meant something."

Prussia stood there and stared at him like he was stupid. _Fucking albino ex-nation; stop staring at me like that._ "He's upset. I mean, sure it rains in Spain, but it doesn't follow him around like it is now. Anywhere he goes, it's raining. It's fucking creepy, to be honest."

"So why come tell me?" Lovino interrupted.

Once again, Gilbert stared at him like he was crazy. Romano had the urge to poke those red eyes out, but he held back the violent urges. Besides, he always felt pissed off; he rarely actually acted on it. "Because. It's your fault he's like this."

_Oh._

Oh, he understood now. He understood perfectly. Prussia was here to guilt him into falling for his temptation. Make him feel bad for pushing Spain away. Well, fuck that. He didn't care. If Antonio wanted to mope around like a depressed teenager, then fine. His country was doing just fine, thank you very much. He didn't need Spain, and Spain didn't need him. So fuck Gilbert for trying to make him feel guilty.

Glaring at the floor, Romano clenched his teeth. "Get out."

His heart was aching, but he didn't want to share it. His mind was exploding with guilt, but he didn't want Gilbert to know it. He was worried about Antonio now, but he didn't want to admit it. He was also pissed off at Prussia for bringing this information to him. In the middle of the night. By climbing through his window. Like it was some kind of fucking emergency. And then how _dare_ the asshole go and treat him like some kind of deranged bully.

When Prussia didn't move, Lovino lifted his eyes and glared. "I said -"

"I heard what you said," Gilbert said, standing his ground, his hands on his hips. "But I know enough about you to know it's not what you need right now."

Oh _hell_ no. He was going to throw something and kick this stubborn asshole out of his room if -

"Get the _fuck_ out of my house," Lovino growled. He wasn't easily pushed to action, but he could feel the urge to attack the fucking asshole and it was growing by the second.

Prussia leaned forward, as if challenging him. "No."

So Romano acted. He swung for the Prussian only to have his wrist snatched midair and held there. He struggled, but it didn't matter. Even if Gilbert was without a nation now, he still had more experience, and he had kept training his body no doubt after all that had happened to him. Still. There was no reason to do this to _him_.

"Fucking bastard, let go."

"No," Prussia said again, his red eyes actually narrowing this time. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not going to tell you fucking anything because nothing's wrong," Lovino snapped as he struggled against the grip. "Let go, bastard."

"No," Prussia said, his voice deadpanning.

Lovino felt his rage escape again. This was ridiculous. He didn't have to put up with this shit. He should be able to smack this asshole around if he wanted to; _he_ was still considered part of the country after all. Prussia had nothing. With another growl, he made a move to punch the albino, and then next thing he knew was his face hitting the floor.

"Ah, what the fuck!" Romano exclaimed, starting to get up only to feel Prussia _fucking sit on him_. "Get the fuck off of me, bastard!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Gilbert said, his voice entirely way too calm. "Not until we come to an agreement."

"What fucking agreement?" Lovino snapped.

"That you'll -"

" _Fratello?"_ Oh thank god, saved by his idiot brother.

Except when Romano opened his mouth to tell his brother to come in and help him, Prussia slapped a hand over it, keeping him quiet and answering Veneziano instead. "Everything's fine, Italy; we're just making a lot of noise."

"Ah, Prussia? I didn't know you were here."

"Snuck in through the window. Kesese~" Fucking loud annoying laugh; Romano wanted to murder him. "Just having a chat with your brother. You should go entertain West for me."

"Oh, uhm, I guess. Is my _fratello_ okay?"

Just as Prussia was going to answer, Romano took a small piece of skin from Prussia's hand into his mouth and bit down. Hard. He heard the albino suck in some air and his voice cracked a bit, but otherwise there wasn't much of a reaction. Fucking stubborn pain-loving bastard.

"Ah, he's – he's fine, Italy. I'll come down and visit later, okay?"

"O-okay..." And that was the last he heard of Veneziano, the sound of those footsteps walking back down the hallway, back down the stairs.

Only then did Prussia remove his hand, though the albino ex-nation refused to get off of Romano in the process. "Shiiiiit. You fucking bit me!"

"You're fucking sitting on me, you bastard!"

"Still, you didn't have to bite me! Fucking crazy ass..." Gilbert ranted as he shook his hand. "The things I do for friendship."

Romano snorted. "We're not friends."

"It's not for you!"

"Then why the fuck are you sitting on me in my own room?"

There was a pause before Gilbert answered this time, the annoying ex-nation not even sounding pissed when he finally did speak up. "It's for Toni. You've messed him up. I'm trying to fix it."

"Tch. You're not going to fix it like this," Lovino scoffed.

"Wanna bet?"

"Fucking bastard, what do you want from me?"

He could feel Prussia shift above him. It was actually starting to get painful. The albino may not have a nation anymore, but he was still heavy. And strong, apparently. It wasn't fair. He wanted to be able to beat people up, too but that just wasn't their way. He had to rely on others. Always. Which pissed him off. He didn't want to rely on anyone. Especially not that mind-numbingly gorgeous tomato bastard.

_Argh. Get out of my head._

"I want you to..." Prussia hummed, as if just now thinking about what he wanted. "Well, I doubt you'll talk to me about it, but you need to talk to him. Whatever it is that's bothering you."

"It's none of your damned business!" Lovino snapped.

"Yes it is," Prussia insisted, shifting around a bit, getting Romano to groan cause _ow that fucking hurts you asshole_. "Like I've said, you've messed up my friend. So. You're going to go talk to him. I won't get off of you until you promise to go talk to him."

Clenching his hands, Romano growled. "That's not going to happen."

"All right, then. I'll sit here all day," Gilbert said, crossing his legs and changing positions once again. "And all night. And forever if I have to, though I don't think even you would last that long. I know it has to do with some Catholic thing. I never did understand you guys."

"What the fuck?" Romano snapped, staring at the floor, wishing he could punch something. "I should have pushed you out of the window when I had the chance. You're the one not making sense. You were a crusader or something once, weren't you?"

He could feel Prussia shrug. "Of sorts. In my younger days. It doesn't matter though, cause I don't follow anything now."

"Then you don't understand! So leave me alone!"

"You're right," Gilbert said. "I don't understand. But I know Toni would. He defends his faith no matter how many times we poke at him for it, so if you're having an issue with it – you should at _least_ talk to him about it. Before doing whatever bullshit you're doing now. They do say lack of good communication is a big reason couples fail."

"Good!" Romano exclaimed. "I want us to fail!"

The smack to his head came completely by surprise. He found himself with his face in the floor again and a dizziness assaulting all else. Fucking hell, the German bastard was rough. "Don't lie! Don't lie to me! Don't lie to yourself! Look around. I can see the obvious just by looking at your room and listening to the music _he_ gave you. You fucking love him, so go talk to him and fix it instead of living like this!"

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, Romano shook his head. "Bastard..."

"I swear I'm not leaving you alone until -"

"Fine!" Romano snapped, finally having had enough. "I'll talk to him! You happy now?"

It took a moment but Prussia finally stood up. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Lovino felt like throwing something at the smug ex-nation but instead he just pulled himself up off the floor, wiping his face. "Would you just fucking get out and leave me alone now?"

He so wanted to wipe that large ass grin off that pale ass face. "You promise, right? You'll go talk to Toni?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise."

The Prussian raised an eyebrow. "No backing out at the last minute?"

"I fucking said I promise, bastard! What else do you want?" He sent a death glare to the albino, not that it had much effect.

Thankfully, though, his words seemed to be enough. The annoying ass albino bastard continued to grin, but at least he was leaving him alone. Lovino watched the ex-nation open the door and make his way downstairs, calling out to Veneziano as he went. What the fuck ever. At least he was gone now. He was alone again. Alone and...

His eyes went to the CD of Spanish guitar music.

_And now I have to think of what I'm going to say to you. Damn it._


	4. Chapter 4

-Friday before Palm Sunday-

_"..."_

_"Hola."_

_"Hey tomato bastard."_

_"Lovino? Did you really just call me?"_

_"Yes. I called you. Get over it, it doesn't mean anything."_

_"Hmm...then why did you call me, Lovi?"_

_"Bastard, don't call me that!"_

_"Okay, Lovi."_

_"..."_

_"All right. Lovino. Why call me? Lent isn't over yet."_

_"I know that! It's – I need to talk to you."_

_"Huh?"_

_"You heard me!"_

_"But...you're talking right now..."_

_"Not over the phone, stupid bastard! I meant-"_

_"In person?"_

_"...yeah. In person."_

_"Hmm...why the change? I thought you gave me up for Lent."_

_"I did."_

_"Then how can you keep your fast if you-"_

_"It doesn't count on Sundays, bastard!"_

_"It doesn't?"_

_"Are you really that dense? Obviously it doesn't count on Sundays! Technically."_

_"Huh?"_

_"It's a loop hole, dumbass. We usually don't take it because that defeats the purpose of giving something up for Lent, but...argh! Would you just shut up and let me talk?"_

_"...okay. I'm listening, Lovi."_

_"Fucking -"_

_"Oh sorry. Lovino~"_

_"...whatever. Look. I need to talk to you."_

_"So you said."_

_"Right. Uhm."_

_"Something wrong, Lovi?"_

_"No! I'm just trying to think and I know you're laughing at me and your stupid smile makes it hard to concentrate!"_

_"How did you know I was smiling, Lovi?"_

_"I just do! You're always fucking grinning like an idiot when you're talking to me, so of course -"_

_"Heh. I guess that's true. It's been a while since I smiled, though."_

_"..."_

_"And it's been a while since I talked to you."_

_"..."_

_"Lovi?"_

_"Just come here already."_

_"Huh? You want me to come visit?"_

_"Yeah. After Mass on Sunday. Can you do that?"_

_"Si~ It might be later in the afternoon before I can get there, though. My boss wanted to go to Palm Sunday mass with me."_

_"Heh. Your boss actually goes with you...ugh, I don't care, whatever."_

_"So I'll see you at your house on -"_

_"No!"_

_"No?"_

_"Meet me somewhere else."_

_"Okay. Where?"_

_"Uhm. Like the park or something. I don't know."_

_"What park, Lovi?"_

_"Stop laughing, bastard! Just meet me in the Villa Ada."_

_"Ah. That's a big place, though -"_

_"Like it matters. You always find me anyway."_

_"Hm. This is true. You are not very good at hiding, Lovi."_

_"Shu-shut up, bastard!"_

_"Okay. So I'll see you in the Villa Ada late afternoon this Palm Sunday."_

_"...yeah...so...uhm...goodbye, then."_

_"Si. Goodbye. Love you, Lovi."_

_"..."_

_-click-_

~!~

-Saturday before Palm Sunday-

Feliciano smiled across the table. An assortment of his favorite dishes had been set out, along with a fine bottle of wine. Ludwig seemed to be enjoying the home cooked bread, dressed salad, and simple but elegant pasta dish. Italy could always be happy when Germany ate his cooking with fervor. They were alone in the house for the evening, and they were taking advantage of that fact to have a small but romantic dinner for two. Ludwig was not particularly the romantic type, but in that respect Feliciano made up for it, finding the awkward blushes from his usually so in-control German lover to be more than worth the work.

Still, there was an awkward taste in the air. They had experienced plenty of romantic dinners and outings over their time together, and Italy was accustomed to Germany's usual lack of conversation. The long stares, blue eyes boring into every inch of him as he slowly sucked or chewed on the food in his mouth. Watching Ludwig watching him. Smiling when he managed to catch the blue eyes and force Germany to face his own food, red blush coating his cheeks. Yeah, he was used to the silence.

It wasn't usually this awkward, though.

Ever since Romano's sudden decision to give up Spain for Lent, there had been a hovering fog following Feliciano around. The same thoughts that plagued his brother had once bothered him, after all. The same issues of being gay and Catholic, of coming to terms with what it meant, of accepting who he was, loving who he was, knowing he could never quit loving Ludwig...he had been through such a similar predicament.

Of course, _he_ hadn't pushed Ludwig away as strongly as Romano had pushed away Spain. So there was a difference between him and his brother. A difference that scared him. Biting his lip, Feliciano played with the fork in his hand, eyes glazed down into his food as he worried. Lent was almost over, but did that mean Romano would return to Spain after the fast? When giving up a bad habit, it was ideal to give it up for good, using the time of Lent to squash the urge. He didn't want that. Lovino was happy with Antonio. These past weeks had been so telling of how unhappy his brother was without the Spaniard around. He couldn't imagine what years would do to Romano. Years without Spain, a lifetime without Romano being happy when he had held onto the greatest happiness life could offer.

A lifetime without love.

"Feli, what's wrong?" Germany was staring at him from across the table, utensils down, eyes soft and patient yet worried.

Italy smiled, closing his eyes and surprised himself to feel a little streak of water travel down his cheek. "I can't stop thinking about Lovino."

"Ah," Ludwig barely said anything in response, but he stayed still and watched, waiting patiently for Feliciano to elaborate, so he would know how best to help his lover.

Setting his own hands on the table, picking at the embroidered cloth with his fingernails, Italy felt his mouth open and all his troubles spill free; he loved talking to Ludwig; no one else listened to him as seriously. "I don't like seeing him this unhappy all the time. Sure, he's not always in the best of moods, but without Antonio lavishing him with praise and attention he's just become – oh, I don't know, but it's not right."

Silence stalked between them for a few breathes, and Italy tried to keep his shoulders from shaking. He felt utterly helpless in this situation. He wanted to help his brother, but he didn't know how. Everything he had tried to tell him had failed, and a part of him knew that he had to leave it up to Romano to discover his peace on his own. But it was so hard!

Ludwig's voice broke the silence like a wave. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes!" Italy exclaimed, lifting his eyes to face the blue of his German friend and lover. "But nothing I say works."

Ludwig hummed. "But have you told him how worried you are?"

Feliciano grimaced. "I don't think that will work, Germany. He doesn't want pity, and if I tell him -"

The door smashed open, a red faced Romano standing in the doorway. Feliciano yelped and got to his feet, noting from the corner of his eye how Ludwig straightened and pushed his chair back but did not move otherwise. Lovino had his hands in the pockets of his light jacket, eyes glaring back into Feli's own, making Italy look at the floor as if ashamed over something. He shouldn't feel this way, though; he was worried and trying to help his brother; he shouldn't be made to regret his feelings like that!

"I'm going to tell you something, _fratello_ ," Lovino said, his voice crisp and focused. "But I want you to promise something in return."

"Ve?" Italy blinked as he looked up to meet his brother's eyes. "What is it?"

Lovino scowled, glancing over Feliciano's shoulder to see the German sitting down and watching with all the patience in the world, quiet but intimidating. "I guess the potato bastard can hear, too. It's his brother's fault I'm doing this, anyway."

"Ve?" Italy repeated, tilting his head, feeling his hair curl bounce in the air. "Doing what?"

Light brown eyes met his own and Romano took a deep breath before speaking again. "Promise me that you won't make a big deal out of it, or fucking worry about me anymore. Whatever I decide in the end, it's _my_ decision, okay?"

Feli frowned. He didn't like the sound of that, but what other choice did he have except to nod and smile at his antsy brother? "O-okay. I promise?"

A nod. "Good."

His brother kept his distance as he made his announcement, and when it finally came out into the open, Feliciano had to admit he knew why. His first urge was to wrap his brother in a hug and celebrate. A small victory, but a hopeful one nonetheless. Still, the promise kept him at bay and he managed to keep his hands to himself, if only barely. When Lovino left to sulk alone in his room, Italy turned to Germany and smiled wide, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Ve, isn't it wonderful, Ludwig?"

Germany smiled back, blue eyes soft and understanding. "It's a start, Feli."

"True," he consented, "But sometimes that's all you need."

Lovino was planning to meet Antonio tomorrow evening. A meeting to talk things out. A meeting that could turn everything around. Italy promised himself that he would have to find Gilbert later and thank him for forcing his _fratello_ to do this much. He had never felt so relieved and nervous at the same time. Relieved to know Lovino hadn't given up completely, and nervous to wonder if there was any way to pull him back around to happiness.

Well, if anyone could do it, Spain could.

~!~

-Palm Sunday evening-

He sat on a bench in the park, looking out at the large lake. His hands stayed in his jacket pockets, keeping himself from tapping on the wooden bench. His bouncing leg was enough of an annoyance. Some kind of restless leg just because he had to wait on someone.

Well, it wasn't like he was waiting on just _any_ someone. Antonio Carriedo, personification of Spain, was no average man to wait on. For one, the tomato bastard was stereotypically Spanish and late to almost everything Romano invited him to. A small part of him was itching to check his watch constantly, counting the minutes ticking by. Sure, they hadn't set a specific time, but the sun was going to be setting soon, and he hadn't intended to be sitting out here in the dark. Especially not alone. Damn bastard making him nervous by not even being here.

It was early spring time, nearing mid-April, so the weather was comfortable. Lovino wore a thin black long sleeved shirt and a light jacket to account for the spring time breezes and the off chance of a random rain storm, which were entirely possible at this time of year. Thankfully, it hadn't rained, though. Spain could make his country's weather patterns react to his emotion. Romano didn't have that same connection, and besides it was more likely to be Veneziano's emotions running the country if it were the case anyway.

He glared out at the lake, watching the light waves twinkling against the setting sun, noting the birds had stopped catching fish, the ripples of movement from underneath the water growing further and farther between. Even the animals were getting ready for the night. Romano was stuck out here now waiting for Spain to find him. Maybe he should have picked somewhere more specific. Sure, Antonio had an insane knack for finding Lovino, especially when he'd rather not be found, so he had put his faith in the man to work his magic again. Maybe he should have -

"Lovino."

His name in the air made his heart skip a beat. Turning his head, he saw the nation, the man, he had given up for Lent. Somewhat curly brown hair framing vibrant green eyes. Lightly tanned skin with smiling lips no matter what was happening around him. Currently dressed in a dark green jacket, a white button down shirt and black skinny jeans, Antonio was standing at the side of the bench, hands in his own somewhat bulky pockets.

Eyes closed and the smile widened, making Romano scowl and turn away, feeling the heat in his face. "Took you long enough, tomato bastard."

"Ah, _lo siento_ , Lovi," Spain said, a light laugh bubbling its way free. "It _is_ a big place."

The scowl didn't leave and Romano made sure to lean back against the bench but keep his face turned to the side. The temptation to touch Antonio was stronger than he wanted to admit. So long without him and the urges had only grown. It was frustrating, but so was the fact that Spain could still laugh. After Prussia's annoying bout of information earlier in the week, Lovino had felt guilty at hearing how Antonio was turning Spain into a rainy country.

Yet here he was smiling and laughing at him just like always.

"Shut up, bastard," he growled, clenching his hands inside his pockets, pretending to stare at something interesting in the darkening lake.

To his surprise, Spain did close his usually hyper and happy-go-lucky mouth. There was no sound at all from the older nation. Just his presence, hovering at the edge of the park bench, hardly moving. Shit. That alone was creepy enough to make Romano turn a glare to him.

"What are you doing?"

Spain shrugged. "You called me, Lovi. I figured I'd just wait until you're ready to talk or whatever it was you wanted. I'm here now."

Romano blinked. Why did the bastard have to _say_ things like that? He growled. "Then stop standing there staring at me like some kind of creepy stalker and sit down."

"Okay, Lovi," Spain said with a smile as he sat down beside Romano. "Oh yeah! I have a gift for you."

Lovino huffed as he watched the Spanish man pull something out of his pocket. Spain loved to give him gifts. He took every excuse and opportunity to hand him something new. Chocolates, candy, music...silly lovesick items. No doubt this wouldn't be any diff-

His eyes widened when a small velvety black box appeared in Antonio's hands, held out toward him. Not knowing what else to do, Lovino took the box, his mind a whirl with possibilities. What was he trying to do? A quick glance to the tanned Spanish bastard showed a smiling face and patient green eyes carefully watching. No kneeling. No professions of love. So...what was in the box? It looked suspiciously like -

No, no he couldn't deal with this. He couldn't handle it. Not now. He was trying to _get rid_ of his feelings for Spain, not accept them or take the relationship further. This couldn't be happening. Antonio was insane and terrible with timing and never really thinking before doing something but this was just...

Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, Romano shakily opened the box. A golden crucifix sat amid the black and white, a golden chain wrapped around and underneath. Oh. A mix of relief and disappointment filled his body, and he let out his breath in a rush.

"Do you like it, Lovi?"

He turned to Spain, his heart still experiencing an emotional rollar coaster of tides when he met those emerald eyes. How they glittered against the dimming sunlight. How his tanned skin took on a smooth sheen in the darkening light. How those hands were in his lap, keeping a polite distance when normally Romano would have been tackled in hugs. Antonio wasn't even sitting too close to him, leaning against the other arm of the bench, even as his eyes showed how he longed to be near. Such respect for Lovi's decision to be distant.

Yet...

"What the hell, you bastard?" Romano tried to scream, but he was shocked to find his voice crack on his words. The emotion was getting to him. The situation. The temptation. The burning ache in his heart. Spain was too close and being _too damn perfect._ "How can you – how does this – you can't _be_ gay and Catholic at the same time!"

He brought a hand up to press against his eyes. Damn emotional reactions. He did _not_ want to cry. Not over this. Not in front of Antonio. Not here. Not now. Damn it, why couldn't he hold it in? He was stronger than this. Feelings be damned, _he was stronger than this_.

"Yes you can, Lovi," a soft hum by his ear. Spain had moved closer.

Romano immediately shot his arm out, only to have it caught by Spain's faster reactionary hand. "No you can't, bastard!"

"Yes, you -"

"No! It's a sin!"

He screamed it. No one else was around anyway. The sun was even getting ready to leave them alone. There was no one else around here. Nothing but the wildlife and the peeking sunlight. So, he let his frustration go. He let it out. The black box fell to the ground, falling from his lap. The tears fell and he fought against the grip on his arm, even if Spain refused to let him go. The Spaniard had done so much right and now he was holding Romano still. How dare he, fucking tomato bastard...

Fingers clung to his arm tightly but green eyes remained wide and bright. _Why?_ Why was Spain still happy? Why could he sit there and hold him back, but still keep his eyes smiling?

_I'll never understand this bastard_.

"No, Lovi, being gay is not a sin. Even most mortals agree on that now."

Romano scowled. "That's just a phrase to help them separate the person from the sin. You know that. It doesn't matter what you say. We can't be together. It's wrong."

"Why?" Antonio pressed. "Why is it wrong? Think, Lovi. This is love. How could that be wrong?"

"Because..." Lovino breathed, knowing he had an answer. He had to have an answer. Love. This was love, wasn't it? Tears hit his eyes. A hand touched his cheek and he stared up into those vibrant green eyes, wanting to know Spain's secret, wanting to have the answer that would make everything feel better. "Because it...it's not normal..."

His argument felt weaker. His conviction fading. Love. He shouldn't love this bastard, but he did. Oh, God, why did he love him?

A short chuckle. "I think the mortals would say we are not normal, either. Nations as humans. We are not mentioned in the Bible or the Church, but you and I both believe that God created us, too."

"Yeah, but-"

The hand moved to his lips, stopping his words, and Romano allowed it. Because deep down he wanted a reason. He wanted to know how his brother could reconcile his faith with his sexuality. How Spain could claim to be a good Catholic and still flirt with him. Everyone else seemed to be handling the contradiction without any guilt. Why? How? It couldn't be some simple answer, or else the mortals would have already retracted their statements.

"So, obviously there are things the mortals don't know." Spain smiled at him again, softly and understanding, even though there was a sparkle of water in those green eyes; was Antonio on the edge about this as well? Why did it look like he wanted to cry, too? "Come on, Lovino, you've been there since very early times in the Church's history. You've watched them change little things here and there. You've been to Councils, I'm sure. This is just another thing the Church hasn't caught up to, something they aren't sure how to handle so they lean back on their trust of the past. It's not perfect."

Romano blinked, not used to hearing so many smart sentences pouring out of Spain's mouth at once. The man was usually so out of it, or clingy, or happy about some small thing, not being all intellectual or showing his actual knowledge of the Church. His eyes widened when he realized what it meant. Antonio had thought about this already. He'd had the same issue. He'd found a way to get over it, a way to reconcile it, and this was it; this was his excuse, his reason, his truth.

But he had heard all those arguments before. It wasn't anything new. The Church hadn't changed their stance. Yeah, Antonio had a point, but if he didn't have faith in the Church's teachings, what did he have faith in?

As if hearing his thoughts, Spain sighed and then did something Romano was used to. He pulled Lovino into a hug, resting a hand on the back of his head. His voice rumbled against his shoulder.

"Have faith in our love, Lovino," Antonio said. "If anything, have faith that our love can reflect God's love. He speaks of love above all else, so how could our love, _any_ love, be wrong? What we have is rare and special. Don't throw it away because the mortals interpret something differently right now. Have faith that it'll change. God's creations are beautiful. He created you this way. We -"

"Shut up, bastard," Lovino said, not with a growl or scowl this time, though he did push Spain away from him.

Green eyes looked back at him, water threatening to fall. Closing his eyes, Lovino took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking hands. Shifting his position on the bench, he pulled even further from Antonio. He refused to look at him, staring down at the ground instead. His face was heating up as the words echoed in his mind, as the explanations, the excuses, the reasons, the...

His eyes found the little black box and the golden crucifix necklace that mimicked one Spain wore underneath his shirt. Jesus on the cross. The ultimate sacrifice, the greatest love. Love. Above all, love.

_Above all._

Lovino Vargas spared a glance for the stunned Antonio Carriedo. Then he bent down and picked up the crucifix gift from the annoying, clingy, stupid, obsessive, sexy bastard of a boyfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard to drive when Lovino was in the passenger seat. Even before all this Lenten drama, it was hard for Antonio to focus on driving. He should have taken a train. That would have been the smart thing to do.

Then he could've stared at Lovino all he wanted. For the entire trip from Rome to Madrid if he was so inclined. Stare at that soft hair with its one defiant curl. Stare at the pouty lips. The puffed up cheeks that looked so much like a tomato when he blushed. The eyes that betrayed the truth of his feelings despite what his mouth proclaimed.

Yeah, he should have definitely taken the train.

"Stop staring at me, bastard."

Romano's complaint was a whisper. Well, command more than complaint, but that was just the way Lovi talked to people. Antonio had been around him long enough to really understand him. He'd delved deep into the other country's heart in an effort to understand him more. So he knew the staring might have made Lovi a little uncomfortable, but he also enjoyed having such loving attention. Not many others gave him such attention, after all.

Maybe not anyone else, though Spain couldn't see why anyone _wouldn't_ want to hug this adorable man. Cute as a kid, absolutely precious as an adult, even with those insults and aggressive, snappy words. It was just Romano's way of acting tough because of his early sense of abandonment.

Well, Spain had promised to never abandon him. To never let him go. So he was here, hoping Romano could remember the words he'd made Spain promise one late night after the throes of passion. Ah, hopefully he would remember and come back. Respecting Lovino's wishes was so hard sometimes because there was so much conflict behind them.

"Are you even watching the road at all?" Lovino snapped. "You're going to get us killed."

"Ah hah," Spain laughed lightly. "Sorry, Lovi. I'll focus on the road. Don't worry. I won't let you get hurt."

Romano didn't say much in response. Just a tight lipped grunt. He was back to staring out the opposite window, slouching in his seat, curl bouncing along with every bump in the road.

Spain reluctantly turned back to face the road. Romano was right. He should be paying more attention to where he was going. He _was_ driving. He _couldn't_ stare.

He could sneak glances, though. That was almost as good. And Lovino hadn't said anything against glances.

After a long while of silence, Romano eventually broke the awkward bubble between them to ask a question. "Are you really going to drag me around to the parades again this year?"

Antonio blinked. "What? You don't like them?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then of course we're going."

"Damn it."

Antonio chuckled. "What's wrong with it, Lovi?"

"Stop calling me that!"

The sudden harsh shout almost made Spain slam on the brakes. Almost. It had been a while since he'd had Lovino in his car, after all. He did prefer trains. Why hadn't he taken the train this time? Oh, right, he'd been too impatient to get to a train station.

"Ah, _lo siento,_ Lo-"

"Nevermind," Romano mumbled, attention going back to the passing scenery outside his window. "I didn't mean to – ah, whatever, we'll do whatever you want. I don't even know why I agreed to come with you anyway. Must be losing my mind."

Spain smiled and turned his attention to the road again. "Losing your mind 'cause your heart is winning, maybe?"

He didn't get a response.

~!~

Feliciano Vargas stood beside Ludwig as the German held up a phone for the both of them to watch a stream from Francis. He'd gotten a phone call from Gilbert first. Well, Ludwig had gotten the phone call and come over immediately.

For some reason Prussia and France were hanging around a Spanish parade in the middle of Holy Week. And they wanted Germany and Italy to watch with them. Francis obviously had the better more up to date futuristic phone, since Gilbert was stubborn about keeping his old razr, so France was streaming video to them while chatting. Italy wasn't even sure which app Germany had used to make this work.

Regardless, here they were, watching a parade in a random town in Spain. "Ve, Ludwig, why are we -?"

Germany gave a semblance of a shrug. So he didn't know exactly why either. Or wasn't explaining. He had to know. Why else would he come here so fast? They weren't supposed to meet up for supper for a few hours yet. So…

"Italy," France said over the line. "Why don't you help us scan the crowd? Gilbert is practically hanging from the roof edge here while he's searching. I have half a mind to kick him off."

"Huh?" Italy blinked. "What do you mean? Search for who?"

A scream answered him. "Francis, you asshole! What would you do if I really fell?"

"Oh, _mon ami_ , no worries. You're resilient. Like a cockroach, you are."

"Fucking _asshole_. I was pretty sure I had them, too!"

Italy sucked in a breath of air. Them? Could they be looking for… Well, it was true that he hadn't heard from his _fratello_ in so long. How many days? Romano had gone out to meet Spain and talk and then he hadn't come home.

He'd just assumed his brother wanted some time alone after a harsh break up of sorts. Romano did like to sulk. A lot. So he hadn't bothered him. Hadn't called or wondered where he'd gone. He wasn't planning to call until Easter at least.

But if the "them" that Gilbert and Francis was talking about were Romano and Spain then that changed things, didn't it? It changed things a lot.

"Oh!" Feliciano said, clapping his hands as he turned to his big buff German lover. "Germany, I think they're talking about Antonio and Lovino."

"Most likely, Feli," Ludwig said. "Though I'm not sure how I feel about spying on your brother like this."

"Ve~" Italy hopped a bit in his excitement. "It's fine. I want to know. Do you think Francis and Gilbert tracked them out there? Is that what this is about?"

Another cry came from the phone. The view of the crowd fell to reveal the sky above. A clear, sunny day over in Spain, completely with blue sky and puffy white clouds. That had to mean good things. No more rain meant good news for Antonio's mood, right? Oh, it _had_ to be a good sign!

And then a man with white hair and red eyes picked up the phone. "Yo, brother, Italy. France almost kicked me off the roof. Did you get a good look of the crowd? Spy anyone familiar while you had the chance?"

"No, not yet," Feliciano answered while Ludwig shook his head. "Turn it back on the crowd. I'm sure they're there somewhere."

"Oh, they're definitely there. We followed them to the parade route."

"Yeah and then Gil here almost picked a fight with a group of Spanish guys!"

"Shut up about that! Ludwig's gonna lecture me again!"

On cue, Italy could hear Germany's sigh. He giggled just at the interaction between them. He loved Germany's relationship with his brother. The crazy albino and his friends. Or just friend in this case. Of course the whole trio of Prussia, France, and Spain was lots of fun – and lots of trouble – but watching from a safe distance was most definitely entertaining to say the least. He could practically _feel_ Ludwig's worry for his brother from here, too.

"Just be careful," Ludwig muttered. "I don't want to bail you out of jail again."

Prussia cackled and then cut off with a grunt, the phone dropping to the ground again. It was a wonder that thing wasn't cracked. Or maybe it was. It probably was, come to think of it. They wouldn't be able to see the cracks of the other phone from here, would they?

Giggling lightly, Italy waved at the screen as France came into view again. "Sorry about that, Italy. You know how that idiot is. Let's return to searching for your brother and Spain, shall we?"

"Please do."

With the ridiculous playful antics finally winding down, the video streaming view of the parade came back to the screen. Italy focused hard to search for his _fratello_. They could be anywhere. And there were so many people!

Parades were already a big deal, but Italy hadn't expected such a turn out for what was supposed to be an outlying town. Not the capital, he knew that much. Romano had once, long ago, mentioned the best places for Holy Week parades since Spain absolutely _had_ to go to them every year. So where were they anyway?

He shook his head. That didn't matter. All he needed to do was spy them in the crowd. Where would Spain stand? He was with Romano, so that might change his position. If it were the troublesome trio they'd no doubt be causing problems somewhere down the line. But, Spain with Romano was different. He'd find a place to keep Lovino comfortable.

So… not in the center of the crowd. Far away from the danger of being pressed by random bodies of strangers. The front edges then? There was tape and sometimes metal rails set up to separate the float routes from the crowd, for safety. Italy kept his eyes trained in that direction. Looking up and down the route, even with the phone shaking in France's hands.

"Oh! There!" Gilbert's shout came, more muffled than it had been earlier. "Francis, there!"

" _Where_ , Gil? You can't just point from down there and expect me to -"

"By the flags on that older building!"

"Flags?"

"Oh!" Italy exclaimed, covering his mouth. "I see them, too!"

Right there where Prussia had indicated. Underneath the Vatican City flag. A flag all Catholics knew well – or at least _should_ know. An older building for sure. One with a completely different style of architecture than the others around it. Maybe a courthouse? You'd usually see flags in places like that, right?

Italy shook his head. No, that didn't matter. Focus, Feli.

Once France was able to spot the couple, too, the phone finally stopped shaking and moving around so much. Feliciano was able to get a good enough look. Spain looked good. Bright. Standing tall. One hand clasped in Romano's.

He smiled as soon as he saw it. His brother didn't look too happy at first. His face was full of his usual grumbling, annoyed persona. Probably not too pleased at holding hands with Spain while around so many people. While under the _Vatican City_ flag of all things.

But, there. There. A smile as Lovino turned to look at Antonio while the Spaniard's attention was caught elsewhere.

So, he _was_ happy.

Good.

Beside him, Ludwig took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he whispered in Feli's hair. "I think they're going to be just fine."

He nodded, feeling his heart bounce in excitement. Good signs everywhere. Good news. Romano had gone to Spain, and was obviously enjoying himself, at least on some level. Like how Romano did.

He heard the sound of hands smacking together as if in a high-five, then caught mumbled congratulations from Gilbert and Francis. They were no doubt glad to see their buddy at peace once more. So, all around, they were all happy again. In the end, everything had worked out after all.

Now, they could all relax.

~!~

Romano sat in Spain's house the morning after Easter. He was the first one awake. Understandable. Spain had been drinking and partying and celebrating with his country once the big Easter mass and all those holy week parades were over. Romano had gone back to the Spaniard's house on his own after a while. He'd still needed time to think.

Strange. He had already made his decision, hadn't he? He'd made it as soon as he accepted the bastard's gift.

With a glance down, Romano stared at the small golden crucifix hanging on a chain around his neck. Stupid bastard. Ruining his Lenten sacrifice with a philosophical argument on _love_ of all things. He clicked his tongue between his teeth. Why couldn't he ever win against this guy?

Thinking about it now, a whole week later, Romano still didn't know why he'd been done in with such a sappy argument. It certainly didn't work for most Catholics he knew. He should have scoffed it off and turned away.

And yet…

Romano let out a sigh as he leaned against the sofa back, eyes focused on the man – lovable bastard of a personified country – sleeping across the cushions. Him? Turn away from this asshole? His heart was too much of a weakling to handle anymore separation from the love of his life.

So here he was.

Accepting the relationship, and feeling relaxed and better than he had felt all Lent. Sacrifices were supposed to be for your good. He'd been so sure that as a Catholic, he should look for someone else to love, someone else that wasn't another guy. But…

He clearly couldn't do it. Not ever again. As frustrating as this idiot could be, as embarrassing as it was to admit it out loud to anyone, Romano couldn't leave him for good. It just wasn't good for his heart to even attempt. He'd learned that the hard way.

The man on the sofa shifted in his sleep and then yawned loudly, green eyes slowly blinking awake. Romano took a moment to stare and appreciate the depths of those eyes. Spain had been through so much more than he had, been around as an adult country longer. Heck, all (most) of Lent had been hell on earth for him, since the idiot was such a lovesick fool.

It was nice to see true brightness back in those eyes. Nice to see the sleepy face he had woken up beside so many times over so many years. Nice to see that smile.

Of course, Romano had to grit his teeth and glare. "Well took you long enough to wake up, bastard."

Spain just smiled wider. "Aw, were you watching me sleep, Lovi?"

"Wha-?" He spluttered, feeling the heat warm his cheeks. "N-no! Definitely not that! Never that! Why would I want to watch a dumbass like you sleep the day away?"

"It's good to have you back."

Successfully flustered, Romano turned away and crossed his arms with a huff. "Yeah, whatever, bastard, just hurry up and cook breakfast. I don't have all day."

He could hear the Spaniard chuckle. And secretly he had to admit he loved the sound of it. One of their typical morning banters, even if it was dangerously close to noon. When did Spain shut down for a siesta anyway? Not that it mattered now since he'd been sleeping so late, but still -

Damn, he really had tried to erase every memory of Antonio from his mind, hadn't he? Not able to remember even the most common of basic details like that. Well, he wouldn't be trying to do _that_ again, that was for sure. Not that he'd be clinging to Spain or anything anytime soon, either. Though he'd try not to complain so much when Spain decided to do the clinging like he usually did.

As if the thought summoned the action, Spain had his arms around Romano in the next heartbeat. As their faces rubbed together, Lovino fought the urge to punch the bastard away.

_Not this time. Let him have it this time._

Besides, it felt good and made his chest warm to know that he was well and truly loved.

"Aw, Lovi, you're actually smiling-"

The reflexive punch couldn't be held back anymore, followed by the typical shout of "tomato bastard" and of course, Spain laughing with a sparkle in his eye from his new spot on the floor.

It was good to be back.

**Author's Note:**

> -Pope Benedict XVI resigned from office on February 11, 2013, the first to do so in 600 years.


End file.
